


Wayward Winters and Chicago Nights

by thegoodmarble



Category: The Good Fight (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-23 21:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14341011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodmarble/pseuds/thegoodmarble
Summary: Her courage waned. He downed his drink.“Does he know where you are?”





	1. Part I

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine.”

He handed her one anyway—either he can tell when she’s lying or maybe she looks like she needs one. It could go either way.

He sat forward, elbows resting on his knees and strong, brittle hands curled around a bottle of beer. The same hands she used to hold. She looked away, eyes drifting around the room. The familiarity of everything around her fills her with surprising warmth—it wasn’t home but it was once a haven when even home wasn’t enough.

“How have you been?”

His voice was soft and it brought her back to him easily.

“I’ve been good. How are you?”

They sound so cordial. So painfully cordial and polite. She hated it.

His eyes shifted downward and he shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. That’s as much an answer as any.

“How are you really?”

He arched an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you if you tell me honestly why you’re here.”

Her courage waned. He downed his drink.

“Does he know where you are?”

“No. But he knows I’ve gone out,” she stopped. “He...he knows how my days usually are.”

She almost told him about how they constantly stay in contact, despite living in the same city. She felt uncomfortable saying that, scared he might take that as some kind of cheap shot at his lack of communication skills. They had been terribly bad at the whole long distance thing.

“He checks on you.”

But if he came to that conclusion on his own then that isn’t something she should feel bad about, right?

“He does.”

His jaw clenched and it stayed only a moment. She doesn’t know why but she won’t pry.

He finished his bottle, nodding to himself, “Well...that’s good.”

“He knows about you. About us.”

His voice was soft, “He’s good to you?”

She nodded, “He is. He’s a good man.”

He nodded, looking away from her.

For a moment, she feels like she’s done wrong. She thought of telling him that he’s a good man too. He was flawed but he was still a good man.

“You’re happy?”

“I...” she blinked, “Are you?”

“If you are,” he said quietly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Your happiness matters too,” she felt that was important to say.

He shrugged, placing his empty beer bottle on the old oak coffee table in front of him.

“Why are you here, Diane?”

He looked right at her, his eyes piercing but not unkind. She hasn’t set foot in this house in over a year and she’s shown up again, out of the blue. Just like all those years ago.

“I...I wanted to...” she hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek and looking down at the bottle in her hand. “He asked me to marry him.”

He looked at her, his gaze long and steady. He barely moved and didn’t even blink. He just sat there and stared.

A deafening silence filled the room and the air was thick with sudden tension of a different kind. She felt her throat close up, almost wishing she shouldn’t have come.

“You always deserved better.”

“I...what?”

“You deserve to be happy, Diane,” he said, “You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

She looked at him, eyes soft but filled with sadness for what was lost so long ago, “I was happy...with you. I thought you were...had I known you weren’t happy with me I wouldn’t have made you marry me.”

He frowned, looking at her with confusion in his eyes. “You didn’t make me marry you.”

“I did,” she remembered that day, his hesitation and her determination. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry...?” he repeated after her, “Sorry...about marrying me?”

“For pushing,” she said, “I knew we weren’t perfect and our situation was not ideal...but I thought we made each other happy. I was no expert on relationships but I thought that was enough reason to be together.”

“It was.”

“Maybe it wasn’t.”

“You made me happy. You made me very happy,” his voice was low but insistent. “I wanted to marry you...I did.”

She placed her beer on the table across from his empty bottle, “I was very angry and hurt for a very long time...but I understand why now.”

“Understand what?”

“Why you slept with her.”

He swallowed with renewed guilt, “It was a mistake.”

“Yes, it was,” she nodded, “I’m not asking for an apology. I’m saying I understand. We were in different places in our lives and we wanted different things.”

“I wanted to be with you.”

She gave him a sad smile, “I think I owe you an apology...what you did was a mistake. What I did...was selfish.”

“Selfish? What are you talking about?” 

“We shouldn’t have gotten married,” she finally said. “I was...so happy. I was so very happy but I never asked if you were.” She looked at him, “I’m so sorry, Kurt. I’m sorry.”

“Diane, what—?”

“I just wanted you to know,” she stood up, “I am not angry with you anymore.”

“You’re not?”

She smiled, “I haven’t been for a while...I’ve just been too cowardly to tell you.”

His kept his eyes on her, still and unmoving in the silence he mastered long ago.

“Sometimes I think I doomed us,” she said quietly and stood up, smoothing the front of her dress. “Thank you for letting me in.”

Then she turned to go, taking her coat from the back of her seat.

He was, for a moment, stunned. “Where are you going? Wait, Diane... _wait_.”

She slipped on her coat, giving one last sad smile before turning to leave. She had taken a few steps out of the room and out of his life when he bolted from his seat. He took large strides to get to her, nearly kicking aside the heavy coffee table. He reached her, gently grabbing her upper arm with his hand curling around soft black winter fabric. 

He moved around her until he was in front of her. She stopped, startled but showing no signs of distress. He placed his hands on her upper arms, keeping her in place. He looked right into her eyes, their faces close enough for her to feel his breath.

“I wanted you,” he said to her firmly, “You were everything I wanted. _You_. I loved you. I don’t know when but I fell in love with you and I wanted to be with you.” He stopped, his eyes roaming her face and he placed his hand on her cheek, “Marrying you was the happiest day of my life. You didn’t push me into it...I wanted it, I always wanted it—wanted you but I was scared of pushing you.”

Their eyes met and stayed.

He breathed in deeply before continuing, “What happened with Holly...it was a mistake. It was ego and vanity and stupidity...it wasn’t because I wasn’t happy. It was...it was bad judgment. I’m not going to blame it on drinking or loneliness or distance. It was a moment of selfishness. Of weakness. None of which had anything to do with you. I was weak and I failed you.”

“Kurt, you don’t have to—“

If she came to say goodbye, to let him off the hook and think he’s freed then there were things he needed to say.

“No, if this is it...if you are walking out of my life,” his jaw clenched, “If I’m never seeing you again...I want you to know. You were my best seven years. From the first day I ever met you to the last we had together. You were the best part of my life...the best of me. I want you to know that. I love you. I always will. And I’m sorry for hurting you. For being weak and for not being the man who deserves you.”

He was a man of few words but if this is the last chance he will ever have to tell her he will use every single one he has in him.

“I was at my best when I had you,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face. “I am never going to be better than I ever was with you...you made me better. You made me so much more than I ever was. I destroyed that in one moment, but I need you to know...that for those years I knew you, I was a better man. And I’m sorry I failed you...I failed us.”

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead then he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. He buried his face into her hair, his fingers slipping through soft golden locks. He breathed in deeply, her scent filling his senses.

She smelled like wayward winters together, like cold Chicago nights, like autumn hikes, like rumpled hotel sheets and soft mornings filled with lazy kisses and warmth. She smelled like coming home from long trips, like reluctant goodbyes, like happy hellos and fleeting but indomitable love.

He will never forget those scents, those memories and how they made him feel. If he was losing her completely, he will keep every memory of her for eternity.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered to her, “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ll never forgive myself for my weakness and for not being the man you deserve.”

He let go, slowly—he’d hold her forever if he could just to keep her with him. He breathed in deeply for one last time, stealing a kiss on her shoulder before stepping back. His hands were the last to leave her and the moment his fingers fell away from her he ached for her.

He shoved his hands in his pockets—a sad attempt to keep himself from touching her again and kept his eyes on the ground at his feet. He lost the right to hold her a long time ago.

“I hope you’ve found happiness again, Diane,” he said gruffly. “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you and he won’t fail you like I did.”

He forced himself to look at her. He was asking for absolution he won’t give to himself—the least he could do was look at her. 

Tears in his eyes were met with another filled with just as much tears.

“What did we do, Kurt?”

Her voice was quiet but so filled with pain she thought she had healed from. She was okay. She’s been alright the last few months. She’s been _happy_.

But it only took him, his words and this house that was never home to bring it all back.

She had come here to say goodbye—to him, to pain, to what they had. It wasn’t meant to be this way. They were supposed to say goodbye like they should have a year ago.

But she needed to heal. And she did. She moved on, she didn’t forget but she moved on. She was stronger and she had put herself back together and that was the reason why she had come here in the first place. She felt strong enough to do this but she was starting to think she’s made a mistake.

“What did we do?” she repeated, her voice taking on more hurt. “Oh, god...what did we do?”

She covered her mouth, wrapping one arm across her stomach and turned away from him.

They separated and lived their separate lives. Their divorce papers were prepared but not yet signed. She grieved the loss of her marriage and coming back from that. Recovering from the devastation had taken everything she had to get to where she thought she was now.

But it only took words and his touch to bring it all back, reviving the sadness and desolation that came with the devastating loss. It shouldn’t come this easily, these tears. She had cried enough for this loss, this end. 

And yet here she was, hiding from him the same tears she thought she was through with. 

She’s beginning to truly fear that maybe there is no healing from this, that it will always hurt, that she will always be in this pain. And she will always love him and miss him when she shouldn’t anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

Stubbornly, she brushed her tears away before turning to face him again.

“I know,” she said, “I’m sorry too...I thought I was okay, but I guess I’m not.”

“You’re gonna be okay.”

“What?”

“You’re going to be okay, Diane,” he said gruffly. His jaw clenched again and he reached up to wipe at his eyes, pressing his thumb and index finger into them before looking at her again.

“I’m...” she stopped, “I don’t know if...”

It isn’t the first time words failed her when it’s him standing in front of her.

There was silence for a moment as they both stood looking at each other, but the sudden ringing of her phone broke the stillness in the room. Fingers shaking, she pulled her phone from her pocket and let out a barely audible gasp. 

Unanswered messages from him usually prompted a call and she had ignored one just as she arrived at the farm. She blinked rapidly, looking down on her screen, hair falling in front of her. The tears came again, blurring her vision as she let her thumb hover between the options whether to answer or reject the call. She was afraid to answer, knowing he will surely realize she wasn’t alright. Then there would be questions and she wasn’t ready to add them to the ones already in front of her.

Suppressing a sob, she pressed her hand over her mouth tightly and sent the call to voicemail. Then she looked at him, hair in her eyes and brushing at her cheeks with a shaking hand.

He doesn’t ask and she knows he’s figured out who’s trying to reach her.

“This isn’t fair,” she said quietly, “To me, to you...to him. I keep thinking I’m alright and then something brings us together and suddenly I’m right back here. And I can’t help myself...I never have, not when it comes to you.”

“You don’t think it’s the same with me?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “You come into my life and every time I feel like I’m finally getting my head straight...you pull me right back. And it’s sounds crazy, yeah, but the thing is, I’ll always let you because it’s _impossible_ not to.”

“Oh, god...” she whispered, “What are we doing? Wh-what are we saying, Kurt?”

“We can’t go on like this,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I love you...I always will and I know what I did was unforgivable but it isn’t going to stop me from loving you.”

Her eyes filled with tears, “So much much has happened...we made so many mistakes. We ruined us.”

“I did that,” he said to her with naked honesty. “Whatever we did...or didn’t do. It doesn’t excuse what I did. That was _me_. Not you.”

He breathed in deeply, his hand moving towards her but he didn’t let himself get close enough to actually touch her. His fingers hovered between them, the air thick and their hearts heavy.

“But if you have a chance to be happy... _take it_ ,” he went on, “Even if it isn’t with me.”

“Kurt...” she tried to speak but he stopped her, shaking his head lightly.

He looked away from her, unable to watch her walk away from him again for the last time. They’ve gone through this dance before—stay apart only for her to have her moment of weakness and return to him. He would have her for a moment and thank god she let him hold her then she would run when it became too real or when she remembered her pain. But this can’t go on. 

Losing her for good is the last thing he would ever want but she was right. It wasn’t fair being stuck in this endless limbo. She had to choose—for all their sakes once and for all.

“He wants to marry me,” she bit her bottom lip, her face a mask of grief.

“I know,” he nodded, “It’s time, Diane...you have to make your choice.”

“You’re right,” she said quietly, “We can’t keep doing this anymore.”

“Then choose.”


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit...so explicit.

 

_“Then choose.”_

“I have.”

The two words seemed to reverberate around the room and as much as he had been pushing for it, he suddenly realized that he didn’t know if he wanted to hear whatever else might come out of her mouth. He was tempted to speak, to say something but he didn’t know what. Should he take it all back? His heart felt heavy, the tightening in his chest making it almost difficult to breathe.

He opened his mouth to speak, to stop her or make the choice for her he wasn’t sure but the ringing of her phone cut through the silence once more.

She looked down, the name and the photo lighting up her screen and left it glowing in the dimly lit room. She could feel his eyes on her, watching and waiting. She stared at her phone for a moment, at the smiling photo of her caller then looked up at him. He was stoic and unmoving in his silence, steeling himself for what was to come. She brushed her hair away from her face, taking a deep breath and kept her eyes on him.

And without looking, she rejected the call.

Time seemed to stretch out in the renewed silence, the little distance between them—him standing just beyond an arm’s length away—could easily be remedied in seconds but it seemed to take her an age to reach him. When she was finally within reach, there was no grand overture, no falling into each others arms, no passionate embrace. She simply reached for him, her fingers brushing against his and slowly slipped through his until they were woven together.

That simplest touch said more than words ever could.

He followed her, their hands warm in each other’s touch, and she led him out of the sitting room they were occupying. They passed the table in the foyer and she mindlessly left her phone there and continued to lead him towards the stairs. There were barely any lights on in the house but they could see enough without stumbling. He hadn’t changed much, if any at all, in the interior of the home. The furniture was still the same and the little things she’d noticed long ago were still there, including the mounted guns on the wall and the old afghan draped on the back of the couch.

Vaguely, she pondered with some slight amusement about how one could pay attention to such insignificant details, in the midst of what had to be one of the most defining moments in one’s life. 

There was nothing but the sounds of their movements in the quiet house, her high heels clicking on the wooden floors, the soft footfalls of his well-worn shoes along with the occasional shuffle of her coat and his light breathing. 

A part of him was afraid to make a sound, too scared to break the spell and scare her off. He followed her, watching her every move, keeping his hand in hers, too afraid to let go. 

She led him up the stairs and took the turn where she knew his bedroom would be. The door, as usual, had been left open. It was winter and the room was cool and dark but it didn’t deter her.

Stopping in the center of the room, she turned to face him. They were no more than a foot apart and when she finally let go of his hand, he almost reached for her again, bereft at the loss of her warmth. He remained still, trying hard not to believe this was happening just in case it really wasn’t. If this was a dream, he thought, he hoped to never wake again.

Taking a small step towards him, she closed the distance between them and tilted her head upwards to look into the eyes that were so intently gazing down on her.

With the smallest shift of her head, she brushed her lips against his and it was only then when he allowed himself to finally move. He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers, the only part of them that touched, lips on lips, gently caressing. Her eyes closed, letting herself feel him and the way his mouth felt against hers, as if they were sharing a kiss for the very first time.

When her lips parted, he felt the briefest touch of her tongue against his lips and suddenly, he felt something snap inside of him, as if something had been awakened. He brought his hand up, holding the back of her head, his fingers slipping into her hair while his other hand slipped around her waist to hold her to him. She brought her hand up to his chest and curled her fingers into his button down shirt, pulling him in for a deeper kiss with fervor.

She heard him release a quiet groan and started to pull harder at the garment. He untangled his fingers from her hair, taking the hand she fisted into his shirt. She pulled back, surprised and her eyes suddenly questioning. He brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against her knuckles.

“It’s been too long since I’ve been able to do this,” he said quietly, breathing heavily and settled her hand over his rapidly beating heart. “Without being scared I’ll lose you or scare you off...without the guilt, without that feeling in the pit of my stomach that this isn’t real...that I’ll wake up and you won’t be here. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to just...kiss you.”

He swallowed hard before slipping his hand on the side of her neck, moving through the blonde locks and settled there. Then he moved closer again, pressing his lips to her and kissed her as if the world was ending. She let his hand roam from her waist to her cheek, his fingers brushing over her cheekbones as he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. She allowed him to get lost in this moment, following him right along, losing herself in the moment that wasn’t about pain or absolution or distraction from guilt. 

For the first time in such a long time, it was purely a moment about two people who loved each other.

Time didn’t seem to matter as they got lost in each other. It could have been seconds or minutes or hours, it didn’t mean anything to them. As their bodies pressed tighter together, it was slowly becoming more and more apparent that kissing was not going to be enough. She pulled at his shirt again, fingers slipping against the buttons and this time he didn’t stop her. 

Her fingers worked quickly and it wasn’t long before she was pushing his shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. His own hands moved to push her coat off her shoulders and made quick work of her dress. He let his hands to travel the length of her back, his fingers latching on to the zipper and slowly began easing it down with his other hand trailing along to feel every inch of skin it revealed. Once freed, he broke away from her kiss just long enough to pull her dress down off her arms and down her waist and past her hips until they pooled on the ground at her feet.

She splayed her hand over his chest while the other latched on to his shoulder, pulling him in for another kiss. She stepped out of her shoes as he began to walk her backwards, slowly, towards the bed, and moved his mouth down to the curve of her neck. His hands moved seamlessly over her shoulders, pulling the straps of her brassiere down just as she felt the brush of the bed behind her.

His mouth left the place on her neck and came back to her lips, kissing her fully and deeply. His hands moved up and down her arms, tangling slightly on the straps he’d left undone. Then he stopped, pulling his lips back and looked down, taking both her hands in his. He pressed his lips against her knuckles, his touch soft around her wrists.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice low and husky.

He looked at her again and ran his hands back up her arms, bring his head to the crook of her neck, letting his lips brush against her ear as he spoke, “He’s all over you.”

She shivered against him, his voice a whisper and his breath warm against her skin. He moved to the other side of her neck, “Before this night is over, I want to be the last person to have touched you...every single inch of you.”

His words and his intent sent shivers throughout her body once more and his hands moved to her back, moving over every patch of skin he could reach. She tilted her head upwards when she felt his mouth on her throat, tongue moving over her skin just as his hand reached behind her to finally unclasped her brassiere. His mouth continued its descent and the lace and satin undergarment slip from her body.

She squirmed against him when she felt the tips of his fingers graze up and down her sides, his mouth trailing long, lazy kisses down the valley between her breasts. The last time she had been intimate with her husband it had been brought upon by fear of loss and grief. She had stifled her cries, the pleasure of the moment mixed with renewed tears at the time. There was no such moment now, only his touch and his kiss and letting him love her freely and fully.

His lips moved over her breast, teasing her as his hand followed the same actions on the other side. She exclaimed loudly, relishing the pleasure he elicited coursing through her body.

“Kurt,” she moaned his name, low in her throat and the sound only encouraged him further. He moved to get on his knees and let his lips roam over the expanse of her stomach and his hands ran over her spine at the small of her back. She buried her fingers into his hair and felt her knees weaken when she felt him graze his lips over the top of her underwear, his teeth catching at the lace and began to peel the material off her skin. She breathed in deeply, hair falling in her eyes as she looked down on him just as his fingers slipped into the band of fabric over her hips and pulled them down her legs. His progress was excruciatingly slow, massaging his way down her thighs to her calves until she was free enough to step out of her underwear.

His hands moved back up around her legs, his skin burning against her flesh though this time he moved faster upon his ascent. She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until she released it in a loud gasp when she felt his tongue dart out and pressed against her, tantalizing her for the briefest moment.

She cried out, her body demanding more but he was already getting on his feet until he was in front of her again, his face inches away from hers. Her skin was on fire where he touched her and her chest was rising and falling rapidly from the depth of arousal no one but her husband had ever been able to incite within her.

His eyes were dark as they stared into hers and she moved forward, pressing herself against him and she could feel his length pressed against her thigh, straining against the fabric of his jeans. He was hard and painfully constrained in denim and he couldn’t help the low, deep groan when she ran a hand over the strained fabric. She didn’t hesitate, making a quick work on his belt and the button of his pants, releasing him quickly with a push, shoving both his jeans and underwear down his legs.

Kicking off his shoes and clothes, he moved to grab her around the waist, pushing her back as she pressed her mouth against his, slipping her tongue into his mouth. She moved her hand down, gripping her hand tight around him. His head fell back and a guttural sound reverberated it’s way from his throat as she began to stroke him.

Steeling his jaw, he gripped her around the hips and pushed slightly until she let herself fall on the bed, bouncing slightly on the soft mattress. She immediately reached for him, grabbing his hand to pull him on top of her. He settled over her, his hands resting on the bed on either side of her head. She moved up to her elbows, tilting her head to the side when his mouth latched on to her neck and he moved his hand over her stomach and further past her hips. 

She gasped, her breath hot against his ear as he slipped his finger inside of her, finding her ready and warm for him. Her hand moved to his shoulder, pushing slightly and he understood without having to be told. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling her to him and let her straddle him, gripping his shoulders and kissing him tongue first, her hair falling around them.

Slowly, she sank down on him, taking him inside her inch by inch, her head lolling backwards at the feeling of completion she had been missing. He tore his mouth away from her, moving down to her neck then to her chest, mouth open with ragged breaths but hot with kisses against her skin.

They didn’t move for a moment, letting themselves revel in the sensation of finally being together once again. Her nails dug into his skin, her eyes closed and her mouth open in ecstasy.

When she could no longer stand to wait, she slowly began rocking against him, grinding her hips against his. He held back, forcing himself not to move and allowed her to set the pace. Instead, he kept one hand on her hip and the other wrapped behind her, gripping one cheek with strong hands, his teeth nearly cutting into his bottom lip at the strain it took to stay still.

She moved her hips quicker, feeling her skin sliding against his and squeezing him inside her. She moved her hand to his neck, suddenly realizing the lack of movement from him. Her eye opened and she looked down, breathless.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he grunted and it was then she realized he was trying to give her the control.

“No, no,” she breathed against him, pushing down to the hilt and pressing her lips against his, “I want you with me. Please.”

He didn’t need telling twice, crashing his lips against hers and lifted his hips to meet hers, eliciting a loud cry of pleasure from her. And just like always, right from the very first time, they were in perfect rhythm, fitting together easily and perfectly like missing pieces from a puzzle.

The tightening behind her navel came quickly and she felt the pressure begin to build with every long, hard thrust of his hips. She was beginning to lose control, rising and falling with more force, his fingers wrapped around her thighs. Incoherent babble started to erupt from her, moving against him, with him with equal force, her core beginning to tense and tighten and tingle.

Her eyes snapped open and met his and she gasped, seeing everything laid completely bare in them. His lust, his love and his need were all it took to release the tight coiling feeling in her abdomen when he drove up into her in one large thrust. Her body went rigid and she all but screamed his name as if it had been ripped from her throat, her nails digging into his shoulders as she came.

Hearing her scream his name and feeling the sting of her nails breaking into his skin was what he needed, feeling the all too familiar tremor in his body. He took one hand from her hip and slipped it into her hair to the back of her neck, pulling her head down to press her lips against his, kissing her with everything he had as he came, her hips rocking against his as she rode out his climax, clenching around him tightly, her sensitive flesh relishing the friction.

Breathing heavily, they began to come down from their blissful highs and she felt her body crumple forward and into him. He caught her easily, wrapping his arms around her as he held her to him. He pressed a kiss against her cheek, feeling her body shaking against his. Her head lolled against his shoulder, spent and languid, draped over him.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and her eyes closed, “I never stopped.”

He moved them, taking her weight against his and slowly eased them down onto the pillows. She curled against his side, her cheek pressed over his chest and her arm draped over his stomach. She tangled her leg into his and he kissed the top of her head, waiting for his own breathing to even out.

“Stay with me?” he asked, his fingers moving over her spine.

She nodded against him.

He pulled her closer, tighter to him, “Sleep.”

“No,” she suddenly got up, her arm shaking as she tried to hold herself up to look at him. “No...if I sleep then it will be morning. No. I don’t...I don’t want to sleep.”

“Why not?”

She placed a hand over his heart and his own hand followed, slipping his fingers through hers over his chest. Her eyes were drawn to their joined hands and she blinked back the tears that were threatening to come once more.

“If I sleep,” she breathed, “then it will be morning and it’ll mean I’ll need to go back home and deal with the mess I’ve made...I don’t want the morning to come, not yet.” She looked at him, her eyes soft but pleading, “It’s been so long since it’s just been us...I just want tonight.”

He nodded, reaching up to push her hair behind her ear. She leaned down and started kissing him again, moving her body higher until she was draped on top of him again. It didn’t take long before they got lost in each other again and he was stirring against her once more.

###### 

She lost count the number of times and ways she let him love her that night. She was exhausted physically and emotionally but she still would not let herself sleep. Every time she felt the urge closing in on her, she would reach for him again and he was only too willing to oblige, ignoring his own exhaustion for his need to love her.

They had nights like this before and not just at the beginning of their time together. With jobs that kept them apart from each other, it left a lot of time to miss each other. So when they had time, when they found themselves in the same county, they would find themselves unable to get enough of each other, knowing it won’t be soon before long until they were kept apart again. It wasn’t unusual for them to relish each other and find themselves awake as the sun broke through the horizon, never realizing how much time had passed. 

Undeniably, they were very good at getting lost in each other, loving each other until their bodies were beyond spent. And even then, when they found themselves too exhausted to move, they would remain awake in the darkness, talking about anything and everything. Or if there was nothing at all and everything had been said, they were content to lie awake together and focus on nothing but the beating of each other’s heart. They were desperate lovers parted more often than they could take and they brought themselves to the brink of ruin each time they managed to find a night to love each other.

She was lying on her stomach, the sheets pooled around her waist with his fingers trailing along her spine as he lay on his side next to her. Her hair was mussed, the pile of golden locks past their usual sleekness after having him run his fingers through them throughout the night.

“What will you tell him?”

Her phone had been left downstairs and she was sure it had rung a few more times but they had been too far away to hear.

“The truth,” she said quietly, “He’s not stupid...before I came here I found the box of photographs of us I’d kept away. I was looking through them when I decided to come here. He would have seen them and figured out where I’d gone if he couldn’t reach me.”

“Does he know about this place?”

“He has some vague idea,” she sighed, moving her head back and turned to look at him through the mess of hair over her eyes.

Reaching forward, he brushed her hair back from her face, “He loves you.”

“He loves the idea of fixing me,” she whispered, “Of saving me. I was a project, something to rebuild and put together. He means well...but one day he will look back and realize he’d made this out into something it wasn’t...or something, I don’t know.”

“I saw him, Diane,” he said quietly, “He’s in love with you.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, leaning to press a kiss to his lips, “Maybe.”

Twisting in the sheets, she moved herself onto her back and moved up to lean against the headboard. He followed, unwilling to be distanced from her and pressed himself to her side. She let him slip into her arms, his head on her shoulder, his weight resting comfortably against her. He turned his head to press a kiss against her skin, somewhere on her under her collarbone, just wanting to feel his lips against her skin. 

He ran his hand down her arm opposite him then moved to caress her side before settling his arm across her stomach. “I’ll happily stay here with you and do this the entire weekend if that’s what you want, Diane...but didn’t you say you need to talk to him?”

“I told you,” she ran her hand through his hair affectionately, “in the morning.”

He laughed a little, burying his face into her skin.

“What?”

“Nothing, but...” he looked up, looking to the other side of the room, “...look.”

She turned her head to where he was staring and she felt her stomach drop when she saw the night sky had begun to turn into a lighter blue.

It was morning.


End file.
